In the Beginning
by WildClover27
Summary: In the beginning, there were five. What took place between the time the convicts arrived at the Mansion and the first mission? Then there were four. What happened after their return?
1. Chapter 1

In the Beginning

Chapter 1 Before

"If you were any real safecracker, yuh wouldn't be here."

"Yeah? You know all about bank jobs? All you did was drive a car. Any idiot can drive a car."

"Gentlemen, please . . ."

"Butt out, Actor."

"Yeah, I'm tired of you actin' all superior. You aren't any better than any uh the rest of us."

"I beg to differ with you."

"Aww . . . "

"Come on, fellas. We aren't 'sposed to fight. Besides, what good does it do?"

"You ain't nuthin' either, Goniff. We eat guys like you for a snack."

"I ain't nuffin'?"

"Knock it off!"

GGGGG

Garrison had remained in his fatigues after his morning run and was sitting on the edge of his bed, re-lacing up his combat boots. His mind went back to a conversation with Sgt. Davidson the previous day in his office. The sergeant had come in to give his report.

"How are they doing, Sergeant?" asked Garrison, leaning back in this chair.

Davidson shook his head. "They just aren't learning to work together, Sir. The wall is still a problem. They won't help each other so, except for Goniff, none of them got over again.'

Garrison nodded. "Keep at it, Sergeant,"

"Yes, Sir."

Craig straightened and stood. Today he was going with the men along the obstacle course. No matter where he was or who he was with, he did not ask anything of his men he would not do himself. Hopefully, through orders and demonstration, he could get the men at least over the wall.

When Garrison came down the stone steps to the car park, five pair of eyes followed him in a mix of surprise and distrust. Sgt. Davidson was the only one who did not react. He already knew the Lieutenant was joining them.

"You comin' wiff us, Warden?" asked Goniff cheerfully.

Garrison nodded.

"You think you can keep up with us, Soldier Boy?" asked Wheeler derisively.

"I have no doubts about it," replied Garrison. "Come on," he said to the group.

With that, he led them through the tall wooden gate to the manicured lawn behind the Mansion. From there, Craig broke into a jog until he was sure the men were behind him. Once they were all moving, he picked up the pace and headed for the path into the woods. It was interesting observing the men. Chief soon joined him in the lead. Craig eyed him and the ground covering lope he settled into. The officer adjusted his pace to equal that of the Indian. No words were spoken.

The path wound narrowly through the trees. Tree roots and shrubs made the group move into a single file, with Garrison in the lead. The first obstacle was a downed tree. Craig cleared it with one foot on the top of it. Chief followed in the same way. Wheeler climbed over it, holding up the other three men. There were loud grumblings. Sgt. Davidson patiently followed along behind to make sure there were no stragglers.

They approached the next obstacle. Chief slithered quickly and easily under the rows of barbed wire that were strung low to the ground. Garrison was on his heels. As usual with the amount of rain this part of England received, the ground was muddy and both men emerged with filthy clothing. Chief looked at Garrison when the officer made no move to follow him further. Garrison gave a jerk of his head, telling the Indian to continue on. Chief trotted off.

Goniff slipped under the wires with ease. Casino came out, face muddied and grumbling about the stupid course. Garrison motioned both of them to continue on.

Next came Wheeler. The chunky man made it halfway through before getting the seat of his pants and his backside tangled on the sharp barbs. Craig hadn't heard such a string of foul language in a long time. It was with effort the officer stifled a grin.

The delay gave the straggling Actor time to catch up, Sgt. Davidson following. The tall Italian was not even breathing hard.

"Nice of you to join us," said Garrison wryly.

He received a small smile in response. Garrison saw the con man study Wheeler's predicament and the smile become the tiniest bit wider.

"You bums just going to stand there? Get me outta here!" shouted Wheeler angrily.

Actor stepped aside to lean casually against a tree, arms and feet crossed, to watch. Sgt. Davidson shook his head and moved between the rows of wire. Pulling gloves from his back pocket, he carefully grasped the wire and tugged it free, ripping the pants material and some of Wheeler's hide.

"Hey, watch what yur doin'!" howled the man. "That's me attached to that thing."

"Keep moving, Wheeler," ordered Garrison.

With much swearing, the wheelman made it through and stood up. He turned to the Garrison before noticing Actor and his stance.

"What 're you lookin' at?" demanded Wheeler.

Actor merely gave an elegant shrug of one shoulder and forbore to reply 'a buffoon.'

"Move out, Wheeler!" the Lieutenant ordered. He looked at Davidson. "Stay with him."

The three men watched the stocky man walk away, a three corner tear in the right back of his trousers, flap hanging down along with a bit of regulation underwear.

The Sergeant moved up to Garrison and said in a low disgusted voice, "Thanks a lot, Lieutenant."

Garrison didn't respond except to smile and the sergeant moved around him to trail after Wheeler. Now Craig turned his attention to Actor. The tall man eyed him inscrutably and continued to lean against the tree.

"Your turn, Actor," said Craig.

The Italian straightened and walked over to the rows of wire. He paused and shook his head. "How degrading."

"I don't know," mused Garrison. "Which is more degrading? This or dying from getting shot in the . . . ' _culo_ '?"

A raised eyebrow tilted his way at the use of the Italian slang word. " _Punto,"_ Actor replied, point taken.

With a sigh of resignation, the con man slipped down under the first wire in the mud. Garrison watched him. "Slide under," Craig cautioned, "or you'll end up looking like Wheeler."

"Not likely, Lieutenant," shot back the Italian, lowering his bottom.

Garrison met him at the other end, noting the look of disgust on Actor's face when the man looked down at his soiled fatigues. "Move out," said Craig.

The two men broke into a trot together. The Italian was to his right side, running easily. So, he could move when he wanted to, thought Craig. Just to see, he stepped up the pace. Actor stayed with him. Apparently the sedate appearance was another deception. Craig wondered if there was anything real about the confidence man.

They approached the log across a sandy-bottomed ditch with a trickle of water running through it. Brambles and brush clung to the sides of the ditch. The log was wide enough to walk quickly across and had rough bark to keep feet from slipping. Garrison stepped to the side and let Actor cross first. His gait was steady. The con man stopped on the far side and waited for Garrison to cross. Together, they continued on; still no conversation between them.

Reaching the wall, they slowed and came to a stop. Goniff was straddling the top of the wooden structure. There seemed to be an argument at the base. No one was paying any attention to Sgt. Davidson. Garrison walked up.

"Okay, Wheeler on one knee. Chief, use him for a leg up," instructed Garrison.

"I ain't helpin' that dirty Indian," grossed Wheeler.

"You'll do as I tell you or you're going back to prison," said Garrison in a tone that brooked no nonsense from the thug. Wheeler just looked him, dare in his eyes. "We've had this conversation before, Wheeler. Don't push me. You won't like the results."

Taking his slow, sweet time, the bald man lowered himself to one knee beside the wall. Chief placed his left foot on the man's knee and hoisted himself high enough for Goniff's hand to grab his wrist and pull. Chief scrambled up and straddled the wall, facing the pickpocket.

Garrison went next, easily clasping the wrists held down to him. He flung a leg over the wall and stopped. "Goniff, down."

The pickpocket threw his leg over the top of the wall and slid down to the ground on the other side of the wall from the rest of the men. Garrison slid back into his place and looked down at the three remaining men.

"Casino, you take Wheeler's place. Wheeler, your turn up."

Garrison didn't know how strong the smallest member of his group was, but did not want to find out by Goniff either dropping the thug or being pulled off the wall. Casino went down on one knee facing Wheeler. The stout man rose, put a foot on the safecracker's knee and attempted to lever himself up. Garrison and Chief found themselves holding tightly to the top of the wall so they could lean far enough over to just barely grip the wheelman's wrists. It was a strain hauling the man up. Wheeler practically fell down the other side of the wall.

"Okay, Casino, it's your turn up now. Actor, give him a leg up."

Actor took Wheeler's place on one knee beside the wall. Casino stepped on his knee and scrambled high enough to be caught by the two men on top. Chief slid down the other side and let Casino have his place.

"So how're we supposed to get Beautiful up here?" asked the safecracker.

"Lean as far down as you can," said Garrison, leaning over and gripping the top of the wall.

Casino was not too sure about this, but followed the officer's lead. Actor had already walked back about ten yards. He watched for Garrison's nod and ran forward, launching himself upward at the wall. Both of his wrists were grabbed by the two men and, with help, he scrambled up the wall to haul himself up between them. Actor slid down the other side. For a tall man, the con man probably did not weigh much more than Casino and not nearly as much as Wheeler.

Once they were all back on the ground, Garrison led the way toward the water obstacle. It was a rope dangling from a thick tree branch over one end of the only pond on the estate. He stood back as Goniff flung himself with ease over the water to grab the rope and allow his momentum to carry him to the other side. The Englishman swung the rope back. Wheeler managed to grab it, but not with enough of a run to make it all the way to the opposite bank. He dropped feet first into the mud and scrambled to maintain his balance enough to climb up on dry ground. The rope returned to its starting point. Chief shook his head, took a running jump and swung across like Goniff had. Casino followed with ease. He sent the rope back so Actor could grab it and swing across. The tall man landed on his feet a yard past the edge of the bank. Now he tossed the rope to Garrison. This was child's play for the young officer. He had done this since childhood back home at the swimming hole.

"And that is how it is done," Garrison said when he joined the group. "If you work together, it's easier and faster."

There were various reactions of boredom, thoughtfulness, and agreement. Maybe, just maybe, it was a start.

"Okay, back to the Mansion," ordered Craig. He didn't need to say that twice.

As he jogged along a trail that was more of a wide animal path than anything else, Craig pondered the need for a developed mile-long running path around the estate. If they pulled off the mission, if they weren't all killed, if the men didn't cut and run, if they returned to England, and those were big ifs, he knew the Army would renege on the promise of the parole after one mission. If this worked, the cons would be in for the duration, or until they were killed on a mission. Well, at least he could make a decent track.

Back at the Mansion, the men were escorted one at a time to take a shower. Garrison went in his bedroom and took a five-minute shower before all the hot water was gone. He changed into his working uniform and went downstairs. There was a myriad of paperwork, a job he detested, which included a report to Major Schaeffer and Colonel Hammond on the men's progress. Garrison elected to eat lunch in his office instead of with the men. The guards would report anything suspicious or negative to him from the cons.

Craig could have had one of the corporals type up his report to the two superior officers, but with the different nature of his team, he chose to do it himself. Typing was another job he detested.

Sgt. Davidson was again in charge of teaching the men about Europe and the Nazi regime. It gave Craig time to finish his report and most of the paperwork before the jump training. Surprisingly, Davidson had reported before, that with the obvious exception of Wheeler, the men seemed interested in what they were being taught. Goniff had made an offhand remark that those in stir had not been kept informed of what was happening in the rest of the world.

An Army linguist arrived to give lessons in German and French. Except for Actor, who was already was fluent in those languages, it was another lost cause. Garrison would have to be happy with 'yes', 'no' and 'show me your papers.' It meant he would have to rely on his confidence man for back-up, but that was what the man was there for, if he could trust him.

Feeling like a boy who had been released from school early, Garrison followed the men out to the parachute jump. He watched, arms crossed in front of him, as the men took their turns on the jump tower. They were better at tuck and roll now, except for Wheeler who seemed destined to forever land like a sack of potatoes. They were about ready to try their first real jump.

GGG

By the end of the week, the men had improved on the obstacle course enough for Garrison to cease accompanying them. Wheeler remained a loner. He would not work with any of the other men unless Sgt. Davidson threatened him; not with the stockade, which would have prevented him from participating at all, but with the group repeating the course until he did as he was supposed to. A little peer pressure helped. Though he knew the rules, Davidson would have looked the other way if the four cons had teamed up to teach the lazy bully a lesson. Unfortunately, in the Sergeant's eyes, that didn't come about.

A couple days passed, not quietly, but with a little less grumbling from half the group. Garrison had his back to his door as he fingered through the folders in his file cabinet, looking for one particular file. He heard the front door slam shut but was not quick enough in turning to see who had come in. The swift, loud stomping of feet on the steps told him it was one of his bigger men. Craig went back to his files, found the one he needed, extracted it and returned to his desk.

He remained in his chair contemplating his men. It would not be seemly to go upstairs to see who the one was having a temper tantrum. It didn't stop him from pondering who it might be. The steps had been heavy; again indicating one of his bigger men. The steps had been taken two at a time judging by the number of steps heard. If it had been Wheeler, there would have been cursing and yelling. And the chunky bald man didn't move that fast. Goniff was too light to make that kind of tromping. The pickpocket would have been whining and probably in the office if something had upset him. Chief was quiet. He would have taken the stairs one at a time and less noisily. Casino? Like Wheeler and Goniff, he would have been loudly cursing and complaining . . . and in Garrison's office. That left Actor. And most likely it was the tall confidence man. He could take the steps that fast and wasn't a complainer. Usually the Italian was pretty easy going. But, Garrison was sure that underneath the façade lay a temper. He would bet even money it was his con man. That was if he were a betting man.

The sound of the water pipes creaking told Craig whoever had gone upstairs was in the shower. Well, the men were being taken through the obstacle course. There was water and mud. Actor was neat to the point of fastidious. Yup, probably Actor.

No further noise came from upstairs after the water had been turned off. Neither of the guards had come down to report anything, so it was something that could wait. It was another half hour before the others returned. By head count, the missing one was indeed Actor. The cons noisily made their way upstairs. Sgt. Davidson did not follow them, but came to Garrison's office. The Lieutenant accepted the salute from the non-commissioned army sergeant and gave him permission to enter.

"At ease, Sergeant," said Garrison.

The man went into the wide stance that was only a little less stiff. "Sir, did Actor come in?"

"He's upstairs," replied Garrison. "What happened?"

"Well, Sir, do you remember that log across the stream bed at the end of the property?" At Garrison's nod, he continued. "I think the bark was coming loose on it. It gave under the man's foot and he fell off. He landed in the bramble bush. I don't think he was injured, other than scratches, but the others were laughing at him. He didn't seem to take it well." Davidson was working hard to stifle a grin. "I made the others continue on. Actor climbed out of the ditch and stormed off this way. I had Private Harris follow him to make sure he was headed for the house, Sir."

Yes, vain with a big ego. Actor would not have taken being laughed at any too well.

The next two days were uneventful, for the cons. With the exception of Wheeler, the men seemed to be handling the jump tower fairly well. It was time to give them their first real lesson.

GGG

Lt. Garrison stood on the ground with binoculars trained on the approaching plane. This was the first jump from an airplane for all of the men. Now they would find out the difference between a parachute landing and stepping off a platform with lines attached regulating their descent. Chief was the first one out, falling away from the plane and grabbing the straps as the static line opened the chute. His head was bent forward, eyes seemingly staring at the ground that was rising to meet him.

Actor was next. He held onto the sides of the opening, hesitating before falling forward, like a downed tree. He did reach for the straps.

Goniff followed without hesitation but seemed confused about handling the straps to control the parachute.

Next was Wheeler. He was looking out the door and started to turn back, but apparently had some help making up his mind as he fell out sideways. His mouth was moving so fast, it took him a couple seconds to grab his straps. Casino followed right behind him, if not enthusiastically, at least with an attempt at correct procedure.

Wheeler landed on the ground like a sack of feed. No finesse and not even close to the white cross laid out as a target. Chief was extracting himself from some bushes on the edge of the clearing. Actor landed behind some bushes on the opposite side of the clearing, but was up almost immediately. Goniff was part way up a tree in the distance. Casino tucked and rolled, but he was only a few feet from the runway and a good 100 yards away from the landing zone.

This wasn't going to look good in Garrison's report.

"I've seen supplies land better than they did," said a sarcastic voice behind him. Col. Joe Gallagher stepped up beside his friend, Craig Garrison. "You sending them up again?"

"Yes," said Garrison stubbornly. "They're going to do it over and over again until they get it right."

"I don't think they're ready for night jumps yet," remarked the Air Force colonel snidely.

Garrison looked at him. "Joe, it's only ten o'clock in the morning."

"Yeah, but from the looks of them they won't get it right much before midnight, Craig."

Garrison shook his head as his 'men' headed toward him. "You may be right."

It took until almost dusk to get the men landing close to the designated area. It would just have to do. Garrison sincerely hoped transportation for the first mission would be by submarine.


	2. In the Beginning Chapter 2 Before

cIn the Beginning

Chapter 2 Before

The men were improving in their other training sessions. Target practice was much improved; the designated places for head and heart on the paper targets had better groupings. The men seemed to be working together more on the obstacle course. This led Garrison to cut them a little slack. There was no way for the men to escape at night from the upstairs common room, with the barred windows and handcuffs on the cots, so the inside guard was moved outside the room to double up with the man on the door.

The men were working together better, but not quite in the way intended. Casino turned out to be the instigator. With the exception of Wheeler, he managed to get each of the others alone to discuss a matter of some interest. All were in agreement. One afternoon, they were in the car park, waiting for one of the guards to take them for a run.

"Hey, Limey," hissed Casino. "You think you can sneak off and get some supplies from that little workshop under the house?"

This was what Goniff was good at. He gave the safecracker a cocky grin. "What all do you want, Mate?"

"Some spring steel; maybe a foot of it." Enough of it to make a couple picks. "And a file."

"What kind o' file?"

"Something we can work our way through the bottoms of the bars on one of the upstairs windows."

The Cockney grinned. "I'll see wot I can do, Mate, but wot are you going to do to keep the screws busy?"

Casino grinned, "That's easy."

He whirled around and planted his fist on the Indian's jaw. It got the desired reaction. Not let in on the spontaneous plan, Chief's temper flared. He swung around and lunged at the safecracker. Immediately the two men were trading punches and rolling around on the pavement, trying to do bodily harm to each other. When the guards came to break it up, both of the cons slugged a guard. Wheeler was standing alone with a big grin of satisfaction. When more guards came, he dove into the fray.

Goniff had disappeared in an instant. Actor stepped back and leaned against the back fender of the Packard, arms crossed, to watch in apparent disgust.

The pickpocket quickly went through tool boxes until he found the items Casino had asked for. Besides a file, which went into the top of one boot to be covered by a pant leg, the wire cutter he had used to cut the spring steel went into the other boot top. Stealthily, Goniff slipped back outside and showed up at the Italian's elbow, for all the world as though he had been there all along. And it wasn't anytime too soon either.

Sgt. Davidson stormed up and reached into the fray, pulling men away; cons and soldiers both. Casino spotted Goniff next to Actor and stepped back, relaxing his stance. Chief had been pulled in the opposite direction. He eyed the safecracker, wondering why the man had started the fight. The two exchanged a look. Chief still didn't understand, but something was going on. And when it came down to it, he'd back a con before he would a screw. So, he stood there, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe the blood that was trickling down his chin from a split lip.

Wheeler was left by himself, trying to slug any guard he could reach. Suddenly, he realized he was alone. Shoving a private away from him, he stopped, eyeing the barrel of a .45 that was in Sgt. Davidson's hand.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm done," Wheeler said belligerently.

"All right! In my office . . . now!" Garrison was standing at the top of the steps, hands on hips, face thunderous.

The cons strolled toward the steps.

"You get it?" Casino hissed a whisper to the pickpocket.

"O' course I did."

They joined the others in the slow walk up the stone steps and inside to enter Garrison's office. The Lieutenant was standing behind his desk, arms crossed in front of him, a look of disgust on his face. When the men started to sit at the conference table they were stopped.

"Line up, front and center," said Garrison in his no-nonsense voice.

Sullenly, they did as they were told, aided by the threat of the guards watching them. They stood and they waited . . . and waited.

Craig studied each one in turn. Actor was to his far right; studying him back with the inscrutable expression he was so good at. Beside him was Casino, a cocky look of belligerence on his face. Goniff was next, fidgeting as usual. Wheeler eyed the officer, even more belligerently than the safecracker. Chief was on the end, quiet and untrusting as ever. Craig let them stand and stew.

"Casino, let's hear your reason for starting a fight," said Garrison; an order, not a request.

"He's been gettin' under my skin," said Casino. "I figured it was time to put the Injun in his place."

"And just what place might that be?" asked Garrison. "None of you are any better than the others." That earned him a sharp look of umbrage from the con man.

Casino shrugged. "He's an Indian."

"Not good enough, Casino," shot back Garrison, wondering if he was dealing with adults or children.

"Sorry, Warden," replied the safecracker. "That's it."

"Well, get over it . . . now." The officer's voice was low, but brooked no further nonsense.

"So what now, Soldier Boy?" asked Wheeler with a daring tone. "Yuh sending us to the stockade?" He made it sound like it would be preferable to being here.

"No," said Garrison, again eyeing each one of them. "But you are confined to your quarters except for meals and training, until the mission."

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," said Actor, obviously still taking umbrage. "I was not involved in any of this. Why am I being 'punished' with the others?"

"Me too," added Goniff quickly. "I didn't do nuffin'."

"Because when one of you screws up, you all pay for it." Garrison continued. "You better learn that now. When we're over on the Continent, if one of you doesn't do what he's supposed to, when he's supposed to, all of us pay for it. And the price could be a lot more than just being confined to your quarters." Craig relaxed his stance just the tiniest bit and nodded toward his door. "Now get upstairs. If there's another fight, you will all be in the stockade until the mission, except for training. Am I making myself clear, Gentlemen?" he asked.

"This ain't right, Soldier Boy," complained Wheeler.

"Really? And why did you join the fight? You could have stayed away from it like the other two." He didn't give the man time to respond. "Get upstairs . . . now!" Garrison nodded to the guards who ushered the cons out of the office and to the stairs.

Partway up the stairs, Goniff stopped and put one foot at a time on an upper step to re-tie his laced boots. The guard at the rear kept one eye on the pickpocket and the other of the backs of the other men. With a cheeky grin, the Englishman bounced the rest of the way up and careened into Casino as they went through the door.

"Hey, you dumb Limey, what's the matter with you," demanded the safecracker.

"Sorry, Mate," apologized Goniff.

Casino felt the extra weight in his pants pocket, under the edge of shirt that had been pulled out during the fight and never tucked back in. He swore he had never felt the man's hand put anything there. He did nothing until the guards had withdrawn, the door was shut and Wheeler had flung himself on his cot.

Stealthily, Casino removed the items in his pocket. There was a tight roll of spring steel, wire cutters, and a metal file. With a grin, the cracksman sat down on his cot, back to Wheeler's side of the room. He unwound and eyed the piece of spring steel, snipping it with the wire cutters into even lengths. Each piece was carefully fashioned with a loop to fit around an upper molar. He had done this enough times in his life to get it right the first time.

He had noticed the tall Italian watching him silently from his chair in the corner. The man held a book as though reading it, but his attention was on Casino. The safecracker ignored him. Goniff was facing him, fidgeting but quiet for once. Finished with the lock picks, Casino looked surreptitiously around the walls on his end of the room. Actor gave a tiny nod of his head to Casino's left and up. There was a slender porcelain vase with a lid on a table along the front wall. It would do just fine. Casino gave a tiny dip of his head in response to the con man and rose to wander over to the table.

A glance at the other side of the room showed Wheeler on his back on his cot, sleeping. Chief was toying with a dart from the dartboard, but his attention was on the safecracker. Casino silently lifted the lid off the vase and eased the pliers and spring steel picks into the vase. Just as silently, he replaced the lid. Perfect fit.

Ambling back to this cot with another backward glance at the snoring Wheeler, Casino picked up the file and held it up. Chief silently rose from his cot and slipped over to the other men.

"'Ow we going to file the bars and not 'ave the guards right on us?" asked Goniff in a low voice.

"Better yet," said the confidence man as he joined them, "why are we bothering? We should be out of here before we can hope to get through those bars." His tone was a bit condescending of their idea.

Casino looked around at the other three men. "An' what if they don't send us out for awhile? I heard the guards talkin' the other day. There's a pub just down the road called The Doves. I, for one, could go for a beer. With the four of us workin' on this we could get through faster. As for how . . . we just have a couple noisy games of cards or darts. Just enough to make noise, but not enough to make the guards or Garrison suspicious."

"Sounds good to me," said Goniff.

"I'm in," added Chief.

Actor sighed. It was better than sitting doing nothing. And a pub would be a nice diversion. "I am in."

They waited until after supper to fill Wheeler in on their plan. A big grin came to the bald man's face.

"Beautiful," he said with delight. "I want outta this place."

"It ain't a permanent escape," warned Casino. "We'd get caught in a heartbeat and sent back to stir. This is just a way to sneak out and get a drink at the bar."

"And what do you intend to pay for it with?" asked Actor in his superior tone.

That got the others looking at each other.

"Yeah, Casino," said Chief. "We ain't got any money."

Casino smiled. "We don't, but the Warden does in that safe of his behind the picture of the Limey king." He shrugged. "If I can get in his office for a full minute without him or anybody else comin' in, I can get some out and he won't be none the wiser."

"You hope," remarked Actor.

"Man, you are so pessimistic," grumbled the safecracker.

"Merely thinking of all the possibilities," said the Italian, going back to this book.

"Hey, if you don't want in, we'll leave yuh out," shot Wheeler in his direction.

The confidence man ignored him.

Chief took the first turn at filing a bar on the window while Casino, Goniff and Wheeler staged a noisy poker game with matchsticks. Actor remained in his chair, close to the window as the Indian worked. And as expected, one of the guards opened the door five minutes later. Chief flung himself onto a chair, facing Actor.

The men at the game table continued their argument over who was cheating, with disparaging remarks about body size and nationalities. After a scan of the room, the guard left and shut the door. They continued the game, and the filing for another hour, then quit before pushing their luck too far. Chief had gotten halfway through the base of the first bar.

The second part of Casino's plan began ten minutes after they had been cuffed to their cots and the lights turned out. From past experience, he knew they were safe for another two hours. This was something he hadn't let the others in on yet.

Casino plucked the spring steel from his upper left molar and went to work opening the handcuff around his wrist.

The click of the cuff opening caught the attention of the others. Four faces followed his actions. He got up and moved to the Englishman's cot, quickly opening his cuff.

"Thanks," whispered Goniff.

Casino started toward Actor.

"Hey, me next," said Wheeler.

"Shut up," shot back Casino in a hiss, "or one of us'll shut you up permanently."

"You don't have the balls," said Wheeler.

"He might not," drawled Chief with a grin, "but I do." That shut Wheeler down to a grumble.

Casino worked his way around the room, leaving the thug for last. The men did not need instruction. They tucked the open end of their cuffs under the covers, in the location it would have been with it on a wrist. It didn't give them much more freedom, but the psychological effect of the illusion of freedom was a relief.

Thus began an evening and nightly ritual for the men. They took turns filing the bars while the others played raucous games of poker and darts. In a week's time, they had made it through three bars, leaving two to be dealt with.

Their days continued to be spent with all types of physical training and lectures in European culture, Nazi culture, and languages. Except for Actor, who was fluent in more languages than any of them knew he could speak, the teachers despaired of the men speaking anything but English. Accents were a lost cause. Goniff sounded Cockney in any language and Wheeler sounded like the thug he was. Chief did not get the hang of French or German. Strangely, the man with the Italian accent could speak French with a French accent and German with a German accent.

Parachuting became easier, but was not well liked. No matter how many times Wheeler jumped, he still landed like a sack of spuds. And his shooting was not much better. While the others were showing better groupings with their shots. Wheeler was lucky to hit the target. Not only was he a danger to himself, he was a danger to the others . . . and they knew it.

Still they trained and still they worked on the bars of their upstairs prison. They were halfway through the fourth bar, but did not get to finish it.

One day, the Lieutenant left for another meeting in London. The men did not pay much attention. It seemed the officer was going to meetings every couple days. This was nothing new, until he returned.

The door opened and Garrison stepped inside. Eyes turned to him in concerned interest. There was a briefcase in his left hand, the chain of a handcuff draped over the side of it. One cuff was attached to the handle and the other attached to the man's wrist. The Lieutenant was handcuffed?

Garrison smiled in satisfied anticipation. "Gentlemen, we have a mission."


	3. In the Beginning Chapter 3 After

In the Beginning

Chapter 3 After

Garrison sat on the hard metal bench in the sub that was returning them to England. The other men were quiet for once. It truly astonished him these men had returned with him. That he had lost Wheeler was regrettable, but not surprising. He had no desire to probe too deeply into the event in the burning money car. All he had was Chief's firm quiet assurance the man was dead. Craig figured the Indian had killed Wheeler, but believed it would not have happened without a reason.

The Lieutenant was tired, but he would not sleep until they were back at what was coming to be known as the Mansion. As he rested his head back against the cold metal bulkhead, he scanned the remaining four men. What a group. Hanley had been right in naming them Garrison's Gorillas. Still . . .

Chief was sitting on the bench across from Garrison, a short but distinct distance from the other three men, silent, which wasn't unusual for the man. Tight lips told of the fact he did not like submarine travel.

Next was Goniff, leaning over the table, blond head on his folded arms, a peculiar shade of green. Beside him, trying to talk him into taking the slow deep breaths their resident medical person had suggested to quell the nausea, was the safecracker, who could drive a tank with no previous experience. Stealing tractors as a child? So much was missing from all of their dossiers.

The said medical person was on the far end of the bench, head back against the bulkhead like Garrison, seemingly sleeping. Except the clear, sharp eyes opened to slits and returned his perusal. Just what was behind that knowing little smirky grin as they were leaving the safehouse? This was the one Craig had assumed would have disappeared into the night. Why had he stayed? Actor would have been at home anywhere in Europe, with or without the Germans. The others staying made sense as they could speak nothing intelligible except English. The confidence man spoke enough languages fluently to move about the Continent without difficulty, even during wartime.

The other curious thing was Actor's seeming lack of fear. He could have stayed safely inside the tank with the others while Garrison had manned the big 50 mm machine gun atop the vehicle. The next thing Craig knew, the Wehrmacht-capped head and upper torso of the tall man was sticking out the hatch below him, firing a machine gun as though it was the most normal thing for him to do. This from a man who had never touched a machine gun until a few weeks ago.

So now what? When the Army saw the success of the mission, they would want more. It had been Garrison's bluff in saying they were in for the duration and six months. It had not been discussed with the Brass. Coming from a military family, Craig knew the Army would want more. And more. And more. He intended to provide it.

GGGGG

Back on British soil, the weary men were escorted to a supply truck and motioned to enter the back by the machine guns of the two guards. Garrison had discreetly waved away the handcuffs, before joining his men. The fact the officer was riding with them and not in the front of the truck was not lost on any of the four convicts, though what they thought about it was not visible on their faces. Neither was their reaction to not being handcuffed.

Bouncing along the potholed road was even more uncomfortable than the sub had been. For some reason, this did not bother Goniff, who was back to his normal pale shade. Actor and Casino tried, without much success, to catch a little bit of sleep. Chief sat by the tailgate, a finger holding the corner of the flap back just enough for him to see out. What he was looking at in the dark was difficult to say.

Two hours later, sky turning rosy with dawn, they reached London. Now the cuffs were put on the men and guards posted at the back of the truck. The grumbling began after the officer jumped out and was out of hearing range.

Garrison strode into Allied Command with the money plates still safely in the pouch around his waist, under his clothing. He was detained at the desk by the door. Apparently they were not used to German uniformed men entering the building, without papers. Craig waited while Col. Hammond was informed of his presence. Finally he was issued a badge and a pass. Craig declined an escort to his commanding officer's office.

Col. Hammond was waiting for him in his office on the third floor of the building. The plates were accepted and inspected. The Lieutenant was released from attention to sit in a chair facing the colonel's desk. Hammond shook his head.

"If I were a betting man, I would have wagered you would not be coming back. Casualties?" asked the gray-headed officer.

"Wheeler," said Garrison.

"Not surprising," said Hammond. "What happened?"

"He was where he didn't belong and was killed," said Craig simply.

Hammond nodded. "So, you brought the other four back with you." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes, Sir," replied Garrison.

"No resistance to that?" The older officer was curious.

"No, Sir," confirmed Craig. "They made no attempt to run." Garrison didn't know quite why yet, but he wanted that point made to the Brass.

Hammond's eyebrows rose in some surprise. "Okay, Lieutenant, you may return to your base. I expect a full report by tomorrow morning. You can send it by courier."

"Yes, Sir."

"Go get some rest, Lieutenant Garrison. Well done."

"Thank you, Sir."

GGGGG

It was another bumpy two hours in the back of the truck to reach the Mansion. The men, now scruffy and bristly, jumped wearily from the truck and trudged up the steps to the door. Garrison led the way in, unconcerned they might not follow. They had come this far. Without a word, they went upstairs to find their cots. Garrison had removed their handcuffs in the truck.

Sgt. Davidson was waiting by the door to Craig's office. He had made note of the missing man. "Lost one?"

Garrison nodded. "He didn't make it."

"I'd be surprised if he survived the jump." Davidson had no regard for the loud-mouthed bully and no regret to learn the man would not be returning.

"That he survived," admitted Garrison.

"Lieutenant Garrison?"

Both men looked up at the corporal standing at the top of the stairs.

"Sir, the men are requesting they not be handcuffed to the cots." The corporal looked uncomfortable.

Garrison nodded. They had come back. It was doubtful they would attempt to leave now. "Leave them off, Corporal."

"Yes, Sir."

The men were still removing boots and outer clothes when they were informed they would not be cuffed this time. They waited until the corporal had closed the door on his way out before discussing it.

"You think the Warden's beginning to trust us?" asked Goniff.

"Why not," said Casino, leaving his German uniform in a heap on the floor. "I'm too tired to go anywhere right now." He swung his feet onto the cot, under the covers.

The Indian was already between his sheets, curling up on his side, opposite the way he had been forced to sleep with the cuffs on. He was too tired to join in the conversation, even if he had any desire to, which he didn't.

Actor tucked himself under his covers, wiggling onto his stomach, feet hanging off the end up above his ankles, blanket barely covering his long body. His clothes were neatly folded on his chair, even if they were German and the inseam of one leg torn open by a stretch to get into the back of the transport truck. Apparently, they did not make German officers in his size.

In less than a minute, the only sound in the room was a chorus of low snores. With the exception of a foray or two to the bathroom, they all slept until around dawn. Chief was up first and grabbed a shower before the others had time to think about it. Actor followed suit while Casino and Goniff remained sleeping. Chief dressed in fatigues and took up his favorite position on the windowsill behind Wheeler's cot. Actor dressed in his jumpsuit and ascot and ventured downstairs with a guard tailing him.

The light spilled in a fan shape across the floor from the open door to Garrison's office. The Italian casually walked in, uninvited and took a seat in front of the officer's desk. Garrison looked up from the paper he was writing on at the confidence man. An uncertain guard stood in the doorway. Garrison nodded to the corporal that all was okay and watched the man disappear from view.

"Do you sleep?" asked Actor companionably.

"Sometimes," replied Craig. He did not allow the man's intrusion to interrupt his work.

Satisfied with the sanitized report he had written, Craig swiveled his chair and put paper and carbon under the roller of his typewriter. Still the con man remained in the chair, observing him. He began typing. If the man had something on his mind, he would get around to it eventually.

After lighting a cigarette, using Garrison's lighter that was on the desk. Actor rose.

"Coffee?" asked the Italian.

"There's a pot on the hob in the kitchen," said Craig, not looking at him.

Actor glanced down at the dregs of dark liquid in the bottom of the officer's mug. Not asking, he picked it up and went out the door. Garrison shot a brief look at his back and continued with his work. A few minutes later a steaming cup of ersatz coffee was placed on his desk. The Italian resumed his seat, sipping at the hot beverage.

"Ohhh," sighed Actor dramatically, "what I would give for a cup of real coffee."

Wouldn't we all, thought Garrison. The men in the field got better rations than he and his men did. He paused and reached for the mug. Taking a careful sip of the hot wheat brew, he too wished for something with caffeine in it. Setting the mug back down, Craig went back to his typing.

"Thanks," he said.

An elegant shrug of one shoulder was the response he received. Finishing the report, Garrison pulled the final page from the typewriter and separated the copies. Placing them in neat piles, he signed and slipped the original into an envelope and set the other two copies aside.

"May I read it?" asked Actor.

"No." Garrison looked at him. "It's classified. Besides, you were there. You know what happened."

Actor seemed to stifle offense at the denial. "Yes, however I would find it interesting how you are reporting it to the Brass."

"As I said, that's classified."

Craig placed a call to G-2 in Brandonshire, requesting a courier to take the paperwork to London. Placing the receiver back in its cradle and rising, he took the envelope and the copies to his safe and locked them inside until he had his office to himself and could move them to their locked file drawer. The sound of footsteps on the stairs announced the arrival of the other men.

"Did breakfast look like it was almost ready," Garrison asked the Italian.

"If you wish to call that breakfast. Yes it was almost ready."

"Well, let's go get some."

A grin crossed Actor's face. "You mean before Goniff eats it all?"

The corner of Craig's mouth twitched into a tiny grin. "Something like that."

They were just finishing the one rasher of streaky bacon, the small mound of dry scrambled powdered eggs and the one piece of toast, when the courier arrived from Brandonshire. Garrison disappeared into his office and the others remained at the table.

"I wonder wot they're going to do with us now?" asked Goniff.

"Whatever they want," replied Chief cynically.

Casino lit a cigarette from the pack beside his plate. At least they got one every day. "They want us, I guess they got us."

Actor was less certain. "I would imagine that is dependent on their response to our returning, what Garrison put in his report, and what they think they might need us for."

Casino's head swiveled slowly to glare at the older man. "Aren't you just a bundle of joy."

"Merely being realistic."

They did not know that Garrison was just as uncertain. He had added a note at the bottom of his report outlining his idea that the men were good at what they did, were useful to the Allies, and had returned of their own volition. He watched the courier leave and remained in his office. Now that the report was out of the way, he intended to make notes on each of his men's behavior and abilities in their dossiers. And he had to write a condolence letter to Wheeler's next of kin, if he had any, saying he had died in defense of his country. It wasn't much of a lie.

But first, they had to debrief. He wanted the cons to know what his opinion of them was and find out what their take on the mission was. He called out to one of the guards and had him escort the men into his office.

Craig stood at the head of the conference table, a pad of paper and pencil at his place. The men wandered in, some with their coffee cups, wariness on their faces. Actor took the seat at the opposite end of the table from Garrison. The others ranged on both sides of the table; Casino and Goniff on one side, and Chief alone on the other side. Except for the Italian, the men slouched into their chairs.

"All right, Gentlemen," said Craig, taking his seat. "This is a debriefing. Transport in?"

They all looked at him in surprise.

"I don't like jumpin' outta airplanes," offered Casino.

"The sub suit you better?" asked Garrison.

Casino shook his head. "I don't like being in the belly of a sardine can underwater with the Krauts up above."

"It's a little difficult to walk across the Channel," remarked Craig, with a slight bit of humor.

"Funny, Warden."

There it was again. Garrison felt certain if the group stayed together, he was going to be stuck with that name.

"Safe house?"

"Lovely young lady," said Actor with a smile.

Garrison was aware he had gone upstairs with the 'lovely young lady' and probably not to discuss the weather. He had been too busy to do anything about it at the time and nothing had been said by the others.

He had also noticed Chief draining the bottle of wine Craig had taken away from Actor. He would have to keep an eye on the Indian. He figured Actor could hold his liquor, but wasn't sure Chief could. He doubted the other two could either, but had nothing to base that on.

"Okay, what about the column?"

"Took Casino long enough to try to open the box," said Chief softly.

Casino glared at him across the table. "Yeah? Well if you had found it faster than you did, I would have more time. You ever tried to pick locks and a combination?"

"No reason to," said Chief belligerently.

"That's enough," said Garrison.

Actor was not about to complement the Lieutenant on his cons. The man was good at coming up with schemes and excellent at carrying them out. The confidence man wondered at his background. He remembered the Warden's comment, " . . .like a bank job." He doubted the proper young officer had ever pulled a bank job, but wondered how he knew about it.

Now Garrison focused on Chief. "What happened with Wheeler?" It was more of a demand for information than a friendly question.

The obsidian eyes looked narrowly back at him.

"Don't matter," said the young man. "He's dead. Ain't gonna bring him back."

"No, it isn't," said Craig. "I want to know _why_ he isn't coming back."

The other four watched Chief, wondering if he would answer and just what that answer would be. They all had an idea of what went down. Chief took his time deciding.

"He came into the money car. Wanted to take the crates of money. I started them on fire, like I was 'sposed to. He kept tryin' to take the crates. Told him to leave it. He wasn't about to and he was gonna kill me. I got him first."

It was as Garrison had thought. "And you're sure he was dead when you left the car."

"I don't miss." There was surety in the statement, not bravado. "And I need another knife."

"We'll see what the Brass says before we go any farther with supplies," said Garrison. Now he fixed each of his men in turn with a stern no-nonsense look. "I'll overlook the stealing of the counterfeit money. This time. It won't happen again, Gentlemen. Am I making myself clear on that?"

"Can't blame us for trying," said Casino with a sneering grin.

Goniff continued before Garrison could speak. "If you hadn't'a found out about it, you would have made yourself a coupla quid yourself."

"If you hadn't taken your hat off and dropped bills in front uh him, we woulda all made a good haul," growled Casino.

"Well it's not going to happen again," insisted the Lieutenant. He looked around at them again. "Not bad for a first time," he said. "But we need to work on your timing. So you will be working with Sgt. Davidson again starting tomorrow morning." As the grumbling began, he stood. "That's all. Dismissed."

"Hey, Warden," called out Chief.

Craig's head turned toward the Indian. "What is it Chief?"

"Where'd you learn to handle a knife like that?"

Craig picked up his pad of paper and pencil before turning back to his desk.

"Warden, I asked you a question."

"I heard you. I'm only telling you once more. You are dismissed. And you can shut the door when you leave."

Scowling, the Indian stood up and followed the others out, slamming the door shut behind him. Garrison shook his head and sat down at his desk.

It was late the next morning before Craig got word from Allied Command the team was here to stay.


	4. In the Beginning Chapter 4 After

In the Beginning

Chapter 4 After

Craig had come to the quick conclusion he needed to keep the men stocked with the tools of their trades if they were going in on missions with the frequency he thought they would. He had already made arrangements for a steady supply of Chief's knives and some extra lock pick sets for Casino. He wondered what other supplies they might need.

Chief was the first in his office. Garrison motioned the younger man in and told him to have a seat. "I will have your switchblades supplied by SOE," said Garrison, anticipating the young man's concern. Chief nodded. He seemed uncertain of something and Craig waited patiently for the reason for this visit.

"I was wonderin' . . .," began Chief. "Could I get some belt leather and some buckles and things?"

"If you need a belt, just requisition one," said Garrison, wondering at the odd question.

"Uh, no, not for a belt."

When nothing more was forthcoming, the officer eyed him. "What do you have in mind?"

Chief looked up. "I want to try to make a wrist sheath for my blade," he said. "Something that makes it easier to get at."

"Do you know how to make one?" asked Craig. He had never seen anything like that before and he was familiar with switchblades.

"No," Chief admitted. "But I got an idea uh how it should work."

That intrigued the lieutenant. "Can you draw some pictures of what you think it should look like?" He paused. "We might be able to get the supplies from SOE or maybe find someone able to make one."

Chief looked sharply at the officer. "I'd like to make it myself so it fits me."

That made sense. "Okay," said Garrison. "You show me what you want I'll see about getting the supplies. Anything else?"

"No."

Garrison gave a small smile. "If you think of anything else, tell me."

"Thanks, Warden," said the young man with a tone of relief. He got up and left the office.

There was that name again. With a sigh, Craig figured he would be wearing that moniker for the duration . . . if they all lived through the duration. He went back to his paperwork. Having to keep up the paperwork on his men made him feel like a prison warden.

The men had made no attempt to escape during the two nights they had not been cuffed. The guards remained outside the door, but this morning he had them remove the cuffs from the cots. He would not admit he felt a tad guilty of chaining them to their cots like animals.

Goniff was the next one to enter his office a couple hours later. He was as fidgety as ever, but not at the level that indicated the slight man had done something wrong. Garrison indicated he could sit. The pickpocket plopped in the chair across desk from the officer.

"Um, Warden, I was thinking. Um, you think we might get some things to keep us hoccupied?" Craig looked up at that. "Um, I mean like maybe a baseball and bat, and a soccer ball?" Garrison continued to stare at him. "Well, you Yanks play baseball and well, in Ole Blighty we play football. Only it isn't the kind you blokes play." Apparently feeling more confident by not getting shot down immediately, the gamin face broke into a wide grin. "It would keep us outta trouble. An' maybe the screw – uh – guards would like to play too."

The lieutenant paused to think about the requests. It wouldn't do to give in too easily to their requests. "I will see if that can't be arranged. Sounds like good exercise."

"Oh, right," said Goniff brightly. "It's good exercise." His head bobbed in agreement.

Craig looked at him. "Do you need anything for what you do?"

Goniff's grin widened. "No." He looked down at his palms and turned his hands over, showing them to Garrison. "All I need is me 'ands. I don't need anything else."

"I will see if I can requisition some balls and that for you."

"Thanks, Warden." Goniff bounced out of the office.

Craig pulled out requisition papers and began filling them out. At least his men were fairly low maintenance. He had no input from Actor and wasn't sure exactly what a confidence man of his caliber would need. He trusted the Italian would tell him.

That evening, Chief returned to the Lieutenant's office with some crudely drawn sketches on paper. It gave Garrison a rough idea what their new wheelman was thinking of. The specifications, as they were, and the drawings were placed in an envelope with that requisition. Strangely, or maybe not, the Indian's supplies were delivered before the sports equipment. Garrison had one of the guards take Chief down to the storage area under the outside stairs to get the tools he needed.

Chief went to work trying to make something that would hold the knife securely to his wrist and at the same time allow it to be dropped into his hand. He worked in the upstairs common room, away from the others. It took him a couple days to come up with the prototype of his wrist sheath; just in time to try it out.

Garrison was called into Major Schaeffer's office at G-2 in Brandonshire. He returned with the same briefcase cuffed to his wrist.

"Gentlemen, we have a mission."

GGG

This mission had gone a bit more smoothly than the first one. Nobody was killed, the job itself went along as planned. They broke into an office, opened a safe, copied some papers, replaced them, got out and drove to their rendezvous point for pick up.

It was better, but not without a moment of apprehension. Garrison and Actor were in the back seat of a 'borrowed' car, with Casino beside them. Chief was driving and Goniff was in the front next to him. All were in 'borrowed' German uniforms. They were stopped by a roadblock. Craig was about to pull the superior officer routine, but his confidence man got there first. Actor's German was perfect and if Garrison had not known better, he would have believed the man was a stern, impatient SS Major. Barking orders to the guard who had stopped them, the con man had the man quaking in his boots and stuttering to allow the car through without even looking at papers. Garrison was impressed, but not about to allow the Italian to know it.

Back at the Mansion, Craig added more notes to dossiers. It had been enlightening. Goniff knew about the alarm systems in windows and how to circumvent them. It was something Craig had expected only his safecracker would know.

Chief had dropped the switchblade into his hand when stopped at the roadblock, but had not needed to use it. Obviously, it wasn't up to snuff yet, because the young man went back to adjusting and retooling the sheath as soon as they were back.

Casino had picked the combination lock on the wall safe in less than thirty seconds. The man must have a bit of the con in him too. When Garrison and Actor had to leave the back of the vehicle, the safecracker was out and holding the door open for the superior officers, moving smartly and with an air of attention he had not been taught.

Now the education of the convicts stepped up. They began learning how to do some of the things the others specialized in. Goniff and Chief were taught alarm systems and how to circumvent them by Garrison, Davidson and Casino. The safecracker turned out to be a natural, if gruff, instructor. He went on to teach the other three how to pick simple locks. Craig was able to get him aside and receive a refresher course in locks.

GGG

The third mission was a little more complex. Again, Actor had to impersonate a German officer. He had the bearing and the language, but the fake mustache would not have held up to close inspection. The borrowed uniform did not fit him well either. At least this time the inseam of the pants did not split as it had on their first mission. There was a close call in the hallway of the Gestapo headquarters they were in, but the confidence man handled it with ease; reinforcing Garrison's faith he had chosen the right man for the job.

Back at the Mansion, Chief asked Garrison for another piece of leather and a different clasp. Another requisition was filled out and sent to OSS. The courier of that requisition returned with the balls and bat. Now the men spent time outside under the watchful eyes of the guards and played baseball. Goniff was more interested in kicking the soccer ball around with his feet and his knees.

GGG

Actor entered Garrison's office and stood inside the door. He waited until the officer looked up.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant, may I have a minute of your time?" asked the tall man politely.

Garrison nodded and indicated the chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat, Actor. Is there a problem?"

The con man took his seat. "Not a problem, more of a request." He looked at the officer. "If we are continuing our 'arrangement' for the duration of the war, I feel I will be in need of a make-up kit."

"A what?" asked Garrison in surprise.

"A make-up kit. To hold the products and items I will need for a variety of disguises. I had one before Attica, but it was destroyed."

"Okay," said Craig a bit dubiously. "Where do you need to go to get one?"

Actor sucked in one cheek. "It would have to be sized to fit in one of the duffle bags, so it would need to be specially made. Is there anyone in the military who could construct one if I gave him the dimensions and what I would need?"

Garrison chewed on that a while. "We could probably find someone in OSS or SOE with the capabilities." He looked at Actor quizzically. "What about the – make-up. Do you have a source for that?"

"I did at one time, in London, but I believe most of my suppliers were bombed out during the Blitz." He smiled pleasantly at the younger officer. "If it would not inconvenience you too much, perhaps I can accompany you the next time you go into London." He put on a wistful expression and continued conversationally, "It has been quite a long time since my incarceration to Attica and then Alcatraz. Prior to my conviction, I smoked a pipe. I do miss my pipe. If we might visit a bank in London first, I could access some of my own money and purchase a new briar and tobacco. A visit to a theatrical supply shop would allow me to get my own make-up and supplies."

Garrison sat back in his chair with crossed arms. "We are not going to London to do a bank job."

"No, of course not," assured the con man. "I have an account in one of the banks. If I used my own money, I would not feel the constraint of having to limit my supplies to what the army would allow."

"It was a con," thought Garrison.

But everything about the man was a con. And like the expert in his field that he was, what Actor suggested made sense. Perhaps, he was being on the level. After all, Actor had passed up plenty of chances to skip out over on the Continent, and had not done it. Garrison was not sure what the man's motivation was, but he seemed to be content to continue with the group.

"I think we can arrange that," said Garrison.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. That would be most appreciated." The Italian smiled. "May I please borrow a piece of paper and a pencil and ruler?"

Craig took several sheets of onion skin paper, two pencils, a ruler and a small angle from his desk and pushed them toward the Italian. "You're welcome to use the conference table if it's too noisy out there." He indicted the arguing in the common room with a jut of his chin.

"Yes, they do get a little noisy," said Actor, picking up the items on the desk.

Craig ignored him at that point and the Italian made himself comfortable at the conference table. An hour later, he was finished. Apparently, he had measured the duffle bags at some point because he knew the measurements. The drawings he placed in front of Garrison were precise and measured, unlike the one for the wrist sheath Chief had given him. Craig was impressed. It was another talent the confidence man had that wasn't in his dossier.

Two days later, the two men went into London, driven by one of the guards. They had gone in early in the morning so they could be finished with Actor's business before Garrison's meeting at Allied Command. They began at a specific bank. Actor went in, followed closely by Garrison. Doubting whatever transactions were to take place would do so in his presence, Craig stayed where he could watch the door to the office the Italian entered. Twenty minutes later, A very polite and refined Actor emerged and walked past Garrison out of the bank. Craig followed.

After they got back into the car, the Lieutenant eyed his con man. "And just how much money do you have?"

"What an indelicate question to ask," said the Italian with a faint touch of humor. "Enough to buy a few necessities."

He gave directions to their driver and they were off to another part of the big city. This time they stopped in front of a shop that specialized in tobacco and other high-priced specialty items for the rich. Actor climbed out of the car and motioned Garrison to accompany him.

The inside of the shop smelled of different tobaccos and looked old and prosperous. Craig wondered how the man made a living, but if he was a friend of Actor's that didn't take much imagination. The con man jovially greeted the proprietor and shook hands with the man. There were glass cases holding all manner of cigarette packs. Garrison looked closely and discovered they were from Europe, England, and even the States. He glanced at Actor and watched the man sorting through a number of briars which had been placed on the counter before him. The long fingers almost fondled the pipes, seeming to test balance and weight, not unlike Chief with a switchblade. Two of the briars were set aside and others put back in the case Actor stood before. Some of the few accoutrements, including a silver lighter, needed to build a good pipe were set out beside the pipes. The owner disappeared into a back room and returned several minutes later with two pouches of what could only be tobacco. Everything was placed in a bag before Actor took money from his pocket and counted out the exact amount and then added another bill to the stack that was given to the proprietor. With a smile, bag in hand, the Italian approached Garrison.

"Is there anything you would care to purchase?" he asked.

There was plenty Craig would have liked to purchase, but he shook his head as though not interested. It took money to buy the fancy cigarettes and more money than he had.

They left the shop and got back into the car. Actor gave the driver directions and sat back in the seat. He glanced at the Lieutenant.

"Would it bother you if I made a pipe?" he asked.

"No. Go ahead," said Garrison. He pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it with a match from the same pocket.

Fascinated, Craig watched the almost reverent care of the con man in removing items from the bag and one of the briars. Familiar with the procedure, Garrison watched the Italian carefully build his pipe. Actor placed it between his lips and lit it with his new lighter. He took a few quick puffs to get it started, followed by a longer inhalation. Holding the smoke in his mouth for a bit, he slowly blew it out. A look of almost rapture crossed his face.

Garrison got a good whiff of the smoke and had to admit the woodsy, almost musky, smell of the tobacco was enticing.

"The briars will need to be broken in," said Actor, "but it is still wonderful. I have missed this very much."

It seemed to be the most real sentiment that had passed the man's lips in the short time Garrison had come to know the man.

"Where are we going now?" asked Garrison.

"A theatrical supply shop," said Actor. "How are we doing on time?"

Garrison glanced at his watch. "We have another hour."

Actor nodded. He sat, with eyes closed, savoring the pipe in his hand. To Garrison it seemed the pipe was right up there on a level with Actor's appreciation of women. The smoke swirled around the back of the car, much to Actor's and Garrison's enjoyment.

The theatrical supply shop was another surprise. The con man knew exactly what he wanted and made a detailed request for the needed items. Assortments of beards and mustaches were brought for his examination. The con man chose at least a dozen mustaches, and two different beards. A gray and a brown wig were also added to the pile. Bottles of dyes, foundations, eyebrow pencils, and lipstick of all things were studied and added to the growing pile. Spirit gum and bottles of glue and solvent were picked through until the con man was satisfied. Next, was a pair of clear lensed wire-rimmed glasses. The proprietor disappeared in the back and returned with small cases and bottles.

Garrison moved closer to see what they were for.

"Contact lenses?" he asked dubiously.

"Of course," replied the Italian. "I have somewhat distinctive eye coloring. Not as distinctive as yours, but noticeable just the same. I might be required to change eye color to match who I am pretending to be."

By now the pile of supplies was fairly large. As it was bagged up, Craig wondered how he was going to pay for this. Actor pulled a roll of bills from his pocket, asked for the outrageous bill, and paid it with cash. Enough for a few necessities? Garrison wondered just how much money the confidence man actually had.

Accepting the bag of makeup and supplies, Actor followed Garrison back out to the car. He seemed quite satisfied with his purchases. Once on the road again, Actor relit his pipe and took another satisfying breath in.

The good mood the con man was in ended when they arrived at Allied Command. The pipe was to be left in the car, and handcuffs would be placed on the Italian, to his disgust.

"You can't come into Allied Headquarters without the cuffs on," explained Garrison quietly.

"Then perhaps you could leave me in the car with the guard," suggested the con man reasonably.

Garrison shook his head. "Not without cuffing you to the guard." With military bearing, he looked at the Italian. "Your choice."

With a put-upon sigh, Actor held his wrists out. He had to remain in the main room in the downstairs of the building, with the guard, while the Lieutenant conducted his business upstairs. An hour later, Garrison came down with the briefcase cuffed to his wrist, and motioned for the two men to join him as he left the building.

Once in the back of the car again. Actor eyed his metal bracelets and then pointedly looked at Garrison's wrist. "Apparently, it is contagious."

The two exchanged a look of almost amusement.

"Feels that way," admitted the officer.

"How soon do we leave?" asked Actor wearily.

"Forty-eight hours," replied Garrison.

The Lieutenant fished in his far pocket and produced the key to the confidence man's cuffs. With a flourish, Actor held his wrists out again to be released. Rubbing his wrists first, Actor held a hand out.

"May I perform the honors for you?" he asked.

Craig shook his head. "I have to keep it on until we are back at the Mansion."

"Pity." Actor picked up the other pipe and went about building it.

Garrison pulled a cigarette from his pocket, stuck between his lips and reached for his matches. The silver lighter flicked open in front of him and he accepted the light. Both men relaxed back against the seat for the two hour ride back to the Mansion.

"Where to this time, may I ask?" inquired Actor.

"Norway. Ever been there?"

"Oslo," admitted Actor.

"I don't think this trip will be as pleasant." Craig was not ready to mention they would be breaking into a prison. That would have to wait until the briefing with all the men, and he doubted that would be pleasant either.


	5. In the Beginning Chapter 5 After Norway

In the Beginning

Chapter 5 After Norway

 _Spoiler: references to the Norway mission are from the episode "Breakout."_

By the time the group returned to England, Garrison's face and upper body were stiffened up. The abrasions and cuts on his lips, one made by Actor, were dried and cracked when he moved. It looked like the 'easy' missions were over. He stifled a grimace remembering his lessons; never let them see your pain or fear. He wasn't afraid, but he was in pain.

The Lieutenant had tried to maintain leadership over his men, but ended up sharing it with the confidence man. This debriefing with his men would be interesting, if they would discuss what they had done. That was questionable.

They had returned to England on a fishing boat. Actor, their designated medical person, had done his best with limited first aid supplies to clean Garrison's face. The big hands had a gentle touch. Quite the opposite of the backhand Craig had received twice from the man. It had been the first time he had not been able to discuss the plan beforehand. Discuss it? Craig had not expected to see the men again, let alone have them rescue him.

There were things that would have to be worked on; like remembering to disarm a captive. But on a whole, it had gone well. Any mission they survived and returned to England from was a good mission.

Resistance had given him clean, intact clothes to wear, so he was at less of a disadvantage in Col. Hammond's office. This time the cons were all allowed to sit in the officer's anteroom, uncuffed. The debriefing with the superior officer may have been shortened by the Colonel's sympathy for the shape Garrison was. If the older man was impressed the cons had rescued and brought Garrison back to safety, he did not show it. Again he was dismissed with the order to send a written report by courier in the morning, as he had done on the previous couple of missions.

The ride back to the Mansion in the back of the transport truck was long and bumpy. Nothing had changed. Except this time, Goniff and Casino where playfully arguing with each other. Chief sat by himself, deep in thought. Actor was smoking a purloined cigarette part of the way, and seemed content to try to relax.

They arrived at the big manor house around noon. The men went to the kitchen to try to get something to eat. Garrison went into his office and took out a pad of paper to begin writing his report. A short time later, he looked up to find Actor, still in part of a German uniform, standing in the doorway, studying him.

"What do you want, Actor?" asked Garrison wearily.

"You are not eating?" The con man ambled into the room.

"No," said Garrison.

"May I suggest you put that report off until you have had some sleep?" said the Italian with seeming unconcern.

"You can suggest," said Garrison sharply to keep the man in his place. When Actor seemed to take no offense at his words, Craig had to admit the older man was right. "Go get some sleep yourself."

"Of course, Lieutenant," smiled the confidence man.

Actor turned and walked out of the office. Garrison waited for the other men to go upstairs before he locked the notepad in his bottom drawer and went up to his room.

GGG

As usual, Garrison was the first one up and back in his office. He was taking notes for his report that could not be written until he learned what the cons had done to get him out. They could not have just walked into that prison. There had to be more to it. And how had they convinced Erland to go back in?

Two sets of footsteps came down the stairs, but did not stop by his office. About ten minutes later, the tall Italian walked in with two saucers and set one on the desk within reach of Garrison. Actor sat without waiting for permission and took a bite of half of a sandwich, with a look of disgust. Garrison glanced at the other half on the plate in front of him.

"It is a long time until dinner," said the confidence man, "and I am developing a strong dislike for Spam."

"So you're giving half to me," said Garrison.

"We might not enjoy it, but it would be irresponsible to waste food," replied Actor.

The man's dry sense of humor did not escape his commanding officer. Craig picked up his half, lifted one edge of the top piece of bread, eyed the greasy meat, and put it back down before taking a bite.

Garrison leaned back in his chair and studied the man who was rapidly becoming his second in command. "We'll debrief with the others later." He eyed the older man. "Why did you come back for me?"

Actor shrugged. "We discussed our options and decided you were our best course of action."

Sure, thought Craig, not buying it for a moment. "All of you?"

"It was a unanimous vote," said Actor, forcing himself to take another bite of sandwich.

Craig left that alone for the time being. He forced himself to take another bite also. After swallowing, he continued. "How did you get Erland to go back into the prison after we just got him out?"

"I merely discussed it with him," replied Actor. "He was most amenable."

There was a touch of 'the Voice' that Garrison was beginning to become familiar with. Damn, the man was good.

Actor's voice was casual now. "I did not take pleasure in striking you, but I had to make it look real."

"Good job," replied Craig, just as casually. The man did have strength in that hand. Craig was glad he hadn't used his fist.

The two men continued to eat in silence. Garrison would have given just about anything for a nice thick juicy beef steak from the ranch. He didn't know what the Italian liked to eat, but it definitely wasn't Spam. When the sandwich halves were consumed, Craig watched Actor paste a smile on his face.

"If you will excuse me, Lieutenant, I have a book to finish reading and a pipe to continue to break in." Not waiting for a dismissal or permission to leave, the confidence man stood up and walked out of the office. He did not see Garrison's raised eyebrows behind him.

Craig set the notes aside and thumbed through the files in his bottom drawer until he had his handwritten notes on the Italian. Picking out a newly sharpened pencil from the clutch of them in the reused tin can pencil holder on his desk, he flipped through to the last page of notes.

 _Assumed command after my capture. Kept the men together. Talked the Resistance man into returning to the prison with them for a con. Showed great initiative in convincing the German colonel he was SS. Realistically acted out a charade in convincing the colonel I was an American he would have no problem interrogating._ Garrison left out of the part of being slapped not once, but twice by the con man. _When cornered without papers, reacted with wry humor, and knew how to blackmail the colonel to accompany them. Deferred to me on the way out, but still maintained being second-in-command as needed._

This one would bear watching more than the others. Chief was deadly with the knife, but he was also young, and there was still a hesitancy about him. That would hopefully disappear with time and experience. Actor definitely showed experience.

The other three men straggled downstairs over the next two hours. With another hour to go before dinner, Garrison decided to hold the debriefing first. There was grumbling from Casino and Goniff, but nothing more than expected. The men entered the office and took their seats at the conference table in the same order they did the dinner table.

Garrison, trying not to show how stiff and sore he was, took his seat at the head of the table, facing Actor. He had a pad of paper and a pencil in front of him.

"Okay, Gentlemen," he began, "the transport in."

"It was okay as far as fishin' boats go," said Casino with sarcasm.

"It smelled like fish," lamented the pickpocket.

"I got news for yuh, Mate," teased Casino. "Fishing boats usually smell like fish."

"Safe house?"

"Food was good," admitted Chief, toying with his blade he was now allowed to keep on him.

"That lady made good chicken," added Goniff. "First time I been full in a long time."

"The accommodations were nice," said Actor. Of course, because he got the other bed in the room with Garrison.

Actor fixed the safecracker with a look. "Next time you ride in the garbage can. So degrading."

"Yeah? Maybe you wanted to change uniforms?" shot back Casino.

"Hardly."

"Like I said," Goniff switched directions, "the nerve of them blokes tryin' to break outta prison when we was tryin' to break in."

"I didn't like watchin' 'em get killed," said the youngest member. This from a supposedly 'cold-blooded' killer.

Garrison was patient if nothing else. "If we had tried to save them, the only thing we would have accomplished was being killed ourselves. We had to maintain our covers."

"Still don't like it," grumbled their scout.

"So noted," said Garrison. "I did not like kidnapping the boy and holding him ransom, but in war there are things which must be done that are distasteful."

"Ah," noted Actor, "but it worked."

"Casino gave a snort, "Yeah, until the kid got away from the woman."

"I weren't expectin' Actor to 'it the Warden," piped in Goniff.

"He had to make it look real," explained Garrison, before Actor could speak up. "A little heavy-handed though."

Actor shrugged with a shake of his head. "It worked until Mantfreeling demanded my papers, which I did not have."

"Wasn't expectin' him to holler, knowing he'd get offed by his own people," said Chief.

"Better to die with honor than as a coward," remarked Actor, lighting a Chesterfield cigarette from one of the ration packs.

"So, Warden," asked Chief, stroking the open blade of his knife, "what happened to Erland?"

"He went back to his resistance group," answered the Lieutenant. His eyes slowly swept around the table. "Gentlemen, next time you take a prisoner, be sure you disarm him. With his hands free, he could have shot any or all of us."

"Hey," objected Casino. "It wasn't bad for our first time takin' a prisoner."

"No, it wasn't," agreed Garrison. "But I think you will agree, you would rather there be a second time."

"Yeah, yeah . . ."

"So how did you get back into the prison and get me out?"

"Well, yuh see, Beautiful had this plan . . ."

By the end of the story, as told by all of them in turn, Garrison was impressed with the leadership of Actor and the cooperation of the other men. With not much else forthcoming from the men, Garrison allowed them to leave and wait in the common room until it was time for dinner.

GGG

With some sleep in their systems, the cons went back to their noisy poker game after a supper of canned meat and vegetables. The fourth bar in the window was successfully filed through. This gave them enough room to squeeze through and to the trellis. It was too late to go to the pub down the road now, so they planned on the next evening.

The finishing touches were put on the lumps in the cots. Anything handy had been used to give the appearance of sleeping bodies; dirty clothes in bundles, clean clothes from their foot lockers, and anything available. The cot in the corner by the escape window even had boots covered with top bedding propped to look like feet hanging from the end of the cot.

The men stood around the open window and watched Goniff, the slightest and agilest, slip over the sill while Casino carefully held the bars aside. The tops of the bars had been filed partially through to allow movement without falling off. Goniff slipped out, hanging onto the trellis and twisting around to get a toehold. He scampered down through the vines and dropped to the ground looking up with a wide grin. Chief followed without any difficulty.

Actor held the bars while Casino took his turn. The Italian muttered to himself, silently. He had made more than one escape from a second-floor window, but he had been younger and more flexible so he had landed on the ground without injury and retaining the ability to escape capture. This? This was degrading. But then most everything with this group was delinquent and degrading. It had been a toss-up with him whether to accompany the men or not. The call of a pub and alcoholic libation won out. That and the fact he had become the impromptu bank for the other three men, at interest of course. Carefully, he climbed through the hole, trying to prevent the bars from clinking against each other. He was fine until he had to twist around onto the trellis. There a slight clinking of the bars, that sounded loud as thunder to the con man. He quickly pulled the window almost closed and hurried down the trellis, dropping from a safe distance to the ground.

Not waiting for the alarm to sound, the four men raced across the open grass to the safety of the woods. There, Chief remained behind to watch for the lights and guards. When nothing was forthcoming, he joined the others at a section of the stone boundary fence that had been damaged at one time, leaving an easily scalable dip.

"Okay, Lads," said Casino smartly, "it's about a half mile down that way." He pointed with his arm.

Crossing the road, single file and spaced, like on a mission, they went into the woods on the opposite side of the two-lane road and disappeared into the darkness. Moving on an angle, they angled through the trees until they met the dissecting road that led to the pub. Casino took the point, while Chief took the rear, listening for vehicles.

The Doves was a two-story white building a few yards from another crossroads, built into a rise. A sign hung over the door, despite the war precautions of no road or town signs, with two white doves flanking the name. There was a fairly good-sized car park with a number of different vehicles, mostly older models in poor shape.

The four men crossed the road and the car park and entered the building, A blackout curtain blocked the light of the bar and when parted, revealed a stair going down to the main room and bar. Actor approached the bar, while the other three moved to a table toward the rear of the common room. The pub had gone quiet with their entrance and the men were eyed with curiosity and wariness.

The Italian approached the bar with a friendly smile. A tall thin man wearing a white apron approached him.

"Good evening," said Actor. "May we have a pitcher of bitters and four glasses at our table?"

"Right you are," replied Robbie, wondering who these people were. The one ordering had a funny mix of Yank and Europe in his voice. "Maggie will bring it to you."

"Thank you," said Actor amiably and walked away.

The men were sitting around a scarred wooden table, a bit subdued for them. They were not used to being spotlighted so to speak.

"It'll take a while for them to warm up to us," said Goniff quietly. "Just the way things are."

"So much for startin' up a poker game and makin' some money," grumbled Casino.

A well-built blond barmaid approached with a smile on her face and a tray balanced with one hand on her shoulder. "Here you go," she said, bringing the tray down so she could set the pitcher in the middle of the table. She set the glasses down beside the pitcher. As she leaned forward to do that, she brushed against Casino's shoulder.

Oh, yeah, thought the safecracker. "So what's your name, Sweetheart?" he asked.

"Maggie."

"Nice to meet you, Maggie. They call my Casino."

"You're not from around here," said the girl conversationally. "You don't have uniforms on, so you can't be from the Yank Air Force Base."

As Casino opened his mouth to answer, Actor broke in, "We are just passing through."

He removed a couple bills from his pocket and placed them on her tray with a smile. Her smile widened, and her attention turned to the tall man.

"If you need anything else, let me know," she said with a wink at Actor.

The Italian eyed her as she walked away. Too robust for his taste.

"Next time get your own dame," said Casino, bringing laughs from the other two men.

Actor looked at him with barely controlled impatience. "Casino, if you wish to return to this establishment you do not need to inform anyone of where we are from. The activities of the estate we are on are secret, as are we . . . or were."

Scowling, Casino poured a glass of ale and shoved it at the Italian, slopping some of it on his hand. Actor accepted it with a look of disgust. The safecracker licked his thumb and made a face of his own disgust.

"Hey, what is this? It's warm and it tastes bitter," he said.

Goniff laughed. "That's why it's call bitters, Mate. And we drink it warm. Not cold like you blokes in the States do."

"Don't they have real beer here?" Casino dubiously eyed the liquid in his glass.

Chief gave a small grin. "We're in England, Casino, not New York."

"Terrific." He took a tentative sip and grimaced.

"You'll get used to it," laughed Goniff.

Actor sat back and sipped his drink. He was used to bitters from his travels prior to going to the States. He watched Chief take a sip. The Indian made a bit of a face, shrugged and took another taste.

Looking around, Chief noticed there was a dart board that wasn't in use. Leaving his glass on the table, he got up and wandered over to the board, taking the darts from it and returning to where a line was marked on the wooden floor. Taking one of the darts, he threw it, underhanded, and watched it land just outside the bullseye. He needed to warm up a bit. He tossed the other dart and it landed a little above the bullseye. Chief sauntered to the board and pulled the darts out. He returned to the line on the floor.

He continued throwing and retrieving the darts, aware he was being watched by not just the other cons. For this reason, he did not try any harder to hit the bullseye, even though he could. It was only a short time before a man in clean, but worn pants, shirt and vest approached him.

"Interested in a game?" the man asked.

"Sure," replied Chief.

"Dollar a game?"

That was not cheap, and Chief hoped Actor would be good for it the first couple times. He nodded, handing the darts to the man. They walked back to the line. Now they definitely had the cons' attention.

The first game was close in points, but the British man won. They tied the second throw. Then Chief began playing in earnest. He won the third round. They continued to play, pretty evenly matched.

The man eyed Chief. "Where'd you learn to throw like that, Mate?"

Chief shrugged. "Way I was taught."

As his arm loosened up, Chief's playing improved. Finally, his opponent had enough.

"Hey, "Arry, you want to try? This bloke's too good for me."

Another man, older than the first, slid his chair back and stood up to trade places with his friend. They were more evenly matched than Chief and the first man, but still the Indian kept winning. Finally, Harry called it quits on friendly terms with the newcomer. Chief walked back to the table and took a long drink of his bitters.

After another half hour and another drink, Actor looked at his watch and motioned the men closer above the table. "We have been here two hours. The bar will close soon and our guards will be changing shift. I suggest we return to the Mansion. Especially if we wish to return here another time."

With resignation, the men downed the dregs of their drinks and followed the confidence man outside. Getting back into the second-floor window was easier than getting out had been. Silently they shed their outer clothes, removed and stored the bundles of clothing from their cots, and slipped under the covers, just in time for the guard's bed check.

The next morning, Chief handed Actor a handful of money. "What I borrowed and what I figure the interest should be."

Actor counted the money. "Perfect. Do you have any left?"

Chief nodded. He grinned. "Could go for another try."

Actor smiled. "Maybe in another couple days."

GGGGG

Those couple days became longer. They had another mission and this one went sour also. They and been shot at going through a roadblock, resulting in Casino and Goniff both receiving bullet creases. It was nothing Actor could not manage, but the exertion of climbing in and out of the window and up and down the trellis would have been too difficult. It was the beginning of the dangerous missions, as if the previous ones had not been.


	6. Chapter 6

In the Beginning

Chapter 6 After Norway

Garrison was sitting in his office one morning, working on the increasing amounts of paperwork he was being given by Allied Command, when Sgt. Davidson came to the door. Craig motioned him to come inside and returned the automatic salute he received. Davidson closed the door behind him and took a seat in the chair in front of the desk with Garrison's motion it was okay to sit.

"A problem, Sergeant?" asked Craig. With his group there were always problems.

"I don't know if it's a problem or not, Sir," said Davidson. "You said you wanted to be told of any odd things we come across. Well, Myers in the kitchen has one for you. It concerns Actor."

That was unusual. Granted if pushed into it, the sedate man would fight back, but for the most part, he was the least trouble here. On missions was another thing. The ladies man would see a pretty face and disappear, returning just in time for when he was needed. It was obvious, the con man was having 'international relations' with the women he found and not about to stop.

"Okay, what's Actor doing?" Craig asked with curiosity.

"He got two ten-pound flour sacks from Myers, filled them with dirt from outside, and took them to his room.

Garrison stared at the sergeant. "Any explanation why?"

"No, Sir."

"Where is he now?" asked Craig.

"Upstairs in the common room."

"With two bags of dirt?" It was more of a statement.

"Yes, Sir."

This was too interesting to pass up. He thanked the sergeant and dismissed him. Leaving his office, Craig noted the three other cons were at their usual places in the that common room. Without a word, Garrison trotted up the stairs. He motioned the guard at the door to be silent.

Stepping close, Garrison whispered. "Is he in there and what is he doing?"

"Yes, Sir." The corporal looked a bit confused. "I think he's exercising, Sir."

Exercising? The Italian did not like to break a sweat. The physical training the men were receiving was not exactly his cup of espresso either. Without a knock or word, Garrison opened the door to the common room.

Actor froze, arms outstretched with a bag dangling from each hand. He was wearing his pants and shoes, but was down to his army singlet. He shook his head and lowered the bags to the floor.

"Is there a problem, Lieutenant?" asked the confidence man irritably.

"I don't know, is there?" asked Garrison.

Actor sat on his cot. "I do not know why a man cannot work at improving his muscle tone without it becoming an . . . issue."

Garrison walked over and picked up the knotted ends of the sacks in his hands. He straightened and lifted his arms outward. Nice little pull. Returning the bags to the floor.

"No issue," he said. "Carry on." He turned and headed for the door. On his way out, he heard an irritated "thank you" behind him.

A week later, the confidence man was called into Garrison's office. After the door was closed, Craig spoke without looking up.

"Behind the file cabinet," he said. "I can only requisition one set at a time, so until I can get another set, we'll have to share them. You're welcome to use them in here with the door closed if you want. It won't bother me while I'm working."

Actor walked over to the file cabinet. On the floor behind it were two hand barbells with additional weights. Definitely better than sacks of dirt.

"Does that work all right for you?" asked Craig, still not looking up from his work.

"It works fine for me, Warden," said the con man. He leaned a shoulder against the file cabinet and studied his commanding officer. "How much can you bench press?" he asked.

Craig looked at him and thought about it. "When I was younger I could lift 300 pounds. But that was a while ago."

Actor chuckled at the 'younger' from the 29-year-old officer. Younger. "I used to be able to press that much also," he admitted.

"You probably never tossed a three-string bale of hay," said Garrison.

"I can't say that I have had that opportunity. How much does one weigh?" asked the Italian.

"Hundred pounds."

Impressed, Actor took the seat in front of the desk. "Threw them? Why?"

Craig grinned. "Loading and unloading them from the trucks and trailers. Winter cattle feed. I won't tell the others about those," he nodded toward the cabinet, "if you don't repeat this conversation."

"Of course not, Warden." Actor grinned.

GGG

The missions came with increasing frequency, limiting the men's forays to the Doves to once a week or less. And as the missions became more frequent, they became more dangerous. The injuries seemed to begin with Garrison's interrogation in Norway. Goniff was the first to be injured by flying shrapnel from a grenade exploding in close proximity to where he was hiding. It was mainly deep scratches. Chief took a graze to the arm as he was throwing his blade at a German guard who had appeared from nowhere. Casino was shot in the upper leg, retaining the bullet until they could get to a safe house. All of the injuries were treated by the confidence man. The safecracker's bullet had to be removed using Chief's switchblade and the Italian had muttered the entire time this was not how he had been taught. And it got worse.

GGGGG

Actor was driving the car with Garrison in the front seat beside him. Goniff was in the back seat with Casino and Chief. The Italian did not usually drive, but the getaway had been hurried and unplanned. They simply had not bothered to stop and change drivers.

Actor slowed as they approached a line of vehicles waiting at a road block. Garrison did not like this. The road block was probably looking for them and they were dressed in German uniforms without papers. The confidence man shot a glance at the Lieutenant. Craig shook his head, no plan upcoming.

"Keep quiet back there," Garrison hissed to the three in back.

Actor pulled the car up as the one ahead of them was allowed through the barricade. A leutnant stepped up to Actor's open driver's window and his expressions showed recognition.

"Hande hoch!"

Garrison's hand came up and he shot across the front of Actor , killing the leutnant. "Run it!" he ordered.

Actor shoved the car into gear and floored it. Everyone seemed to be shooting; German soldiers, Garrison, Casino and Chief. One soldier got a shot off before the car hit him. The bullet at close range tore through the windshield and slammed into Actor's left shoulder, exiting out the back, on an angle over the back of his seat, barely missing Goniff's head.

"Blimey!" screeched the pickpocket, ducking behind the back of the front seat.

Garrison made a grab for the steering wheel, but the con man had a tight grip with his right hand and plowed through the barricade, not slowing. Shoving his foot down on the clutch, it was Garrison's left hand on the shift stick, shoving it into a higher gear. They tore down the road with as much speed as the Italian could coax out of the engine.

Craig eyed him, noting the pallor to his face and the clenched jaw. It was the first time the big man had been injured and he seemed to be taking it as stoically as the officer himself had in Norway. Garrison pulled the map out from the inside of his uniform jacket. They could not go straight to the safe house with the Jerries chasing them. They would have to detour and back track to the farmhouse that was used by the resistance.

"Turn left at the next road," Garrison ordered.

A tight nod was the Italian's response.

"They're comin', Warden," said Casino, hanging out the side window with his gun ready.

Chief was hanging out the other window with his gun. Stuck in the middle, Goniff slid down so his head was lower than the spiderweb cracked back window.

Coming up fast on the crossroad, Actor tucked his left elbow tight to his body, slamming on the brakes as he clutched and spinning the wheel, putting the car into a skid around the sharp turn. His left hand grabbed the crossbar of the steering wheel, while his right hand shifted. The sliding of the big car put Casino at enough of an angle to shoot the radiator of the rapidly gaining staff car behind them. It took out their pursuers' engine.

Now fighting the sliding car, Actor was forced to use the injured arm to steer while he shifted to straighten them out without stalling. He swallowed hard against the pain and black spots dancing in his vision, but managed to get the vehicle going straight. Garrison took them down a second road. Actor was clamping his teeth so hard, Craig thought he would break them.

"Clear?"

"Yeah, Warden, for a minute," Casino answered.

Garrison looked at Actor. "Stop."

The con man slammed on the brakes, throwing in the clutch again, grabbing the wheel with his left hand and working the stick with his right. The car screeched to a halt, engine still running.

"Casino, get up here and drive!"

The cracksman was out of the car before it was done rocking and helped shove Actor to the middle of the seat, taking his place. He threw it in gear and sent the car leaping forward.

"Next road, turn right," said Garrison.

He reached under the dashboard and pulled the emergency kit free.

Actor was leaning back against the seat trying to control his breathing, right hand pressing hard against the rapidly increasing red stain on his left shoulder. It was the first time the Italian had been shot. Oh, he had been shot at before, but never hit. He had expected pain, but not the burning as though a hot poker had been shoved through his shoulder.

Garrison quickly unbuttoned the tunic and pulled the now bloody white blouse away from the wound as Actor removed his hand. The hole was bleeding freely, but not pulsating, so the bullet had missed an artery. He placed a wad of gauze over the entrance wound and the con man went back to applying pressure. Another wad was shoved below the man's collar in the back to cover the exit wound and Actor leaned back against the seat to put pressure on that now.

"You doing okay?" asked Garrison.

Actor turned his head to give an almost disbelieving look at the officer. "I have been better," he said tightly.

"Congratulations, Beautiful," said Casino. "Now you're even with the rest of us."

"Thank you," said Actor. "I am touched by your concern."

Casino shrugged, turning down the next road. "At least yours went through. You don't have to have somebody digging in you with a switchblade."

"Next time I will leave the bullet in you," assured the Italian.

"Turn right at the next road," instructed Garrison.

"Yeah, yeah, Warden, I know where I am," said the safecracker. "What's it like behind us?" he asked.

"Clear," said Chief. "Think we lost 'em."

To be on the safe side, they continued to zig and zag down backroads until they finally reached the abandoned farm house that was their safe house. Garrison, Goniff and Chief got out with Chief going back down the drive to watch for pursuers from the cover of the neighboring woods. Garrison and Goniff helped the injured man from the front seat. Once they had him clear and the doors closed, Casino drove the car around the back, out of sight of the drive.

Garrison motioned Goniff and Actor to wait while he went up to the front door of the house, gun ready. Pressed against the wall, he reached over and turned the knob, suddenly pushing the door open. Nothing. Taking a breath, Craig burst into the house and moved to his right. There was nobody visible. Making a quick sweep of the rooms, he went back to the front door and motioned Goniff and Actor to come in. Casino came running up and helped the confidence man into the house.

Garrison pulled a table chair out and Actor sank onto it, bloody hand pressed hard against the wound on the front of his shoulder. Casino went in search of an aide kit. Garrison eased the open neck of the no longer white blouse aside with a finger. The gauze dressing was totally saturated with blood.

"Must have clipped a good vein. It's not an artery," he said to Actor. "You holding up okay?"

Actor nodded.

Goniff was fidgeting as usual. "You want water and rags?"

"Yes," said Garrison.

Casino strode out of a back room with a kit in hand. He laid it on the table and opened it. Garrison glanced through the contents. There was sulfa, suture, and dressing material. It would have to do. He finished unbuttoning Actor's tunic and blouse. Between himself and Casino, they removed the soiled clothing. Casino wadded up the blouse and pressed it against the exit wound on the con man's posterior shoulder. Blood ran in a trail down his back.

Goniff came back with a basin of wate; towels draped over his forearm rather like a waiter. He set the basin on the table beside the open kit and dropped the towels next to it before looking around Garrison at the wound the officer was uncovering. It sunk into his mind the bullet that had gone through the Italian's shoulder had almost hit him in the head. He shuddered and moved back. And went to the window to take up the inside guard duty and not have to watch the treating of the wounds.

Actor sat still and quiet, eyes following the hands that were cleaning around and probing the wound that he could see. "Will I live?" he asked wryly.

"Looks like," replied Garrison. "I'm going to stitch up the front and part of the back. I want it to be able to drain."

Actor nodded. His hand went over the gauze pad Garrison placed covering the hole. He watched with distaste as the officer put a glass syringe together and drew up some Procaine. His face remained still, not showing the grimace he wanted to make at the burning injections around the wound. Thankfully, Garrison's touch was gentle and steady as he injected the local anesthetic and then sprinkled a goodly amount of sulfa into the wound. He stitched the wound quickly and skillfully. The bleeding slowed and stopped.

Actor leaned forward as Garrison moved to the wound on the back side of his shoulder. Casino backed up, but uncharacteristically rested a hand on the Italian's other shoulder while Garrison injected the Procaine around that wound. Craig only stitched part of the wound, leaving a small hole that oozed blood. He sprinkled sulfa over both wounds before dressing them tightly with gauze pads and wrapped the shoulder and chest with roller bandage. That done, he cleansed the blood from the man's chest and back.

Casino went out and brought in the duffle that was in the back of the car. He set it on the end of the table and pulled out a clean shirt and helped Actor get his arms into the sleeves. Garrison buttoned up the front.

"Thank you," Actor said quietly. "Both of you."

"Hey," said Casino with some discomfort, "you've taken care of us enough times. It's your turn."

Actor gave a crooked grin. "This is something I wouldn't care to do again." He glanced down at his shoulder. "This has ruined my perfection."

Casino gave a bark of laughter. "Just put some o' that stuff you put on your face and hide it. The dames won't care."

Both Garrison and Actor tilted eyes at the safecracker.

GGGGG

The next trip to the Doves had to be without the confidence man. Arm still in a sling, it would be impossible for him to manage the bars and the trellis. The con man took the opportunity to sit in his chair with a book in peace and quiet. He was beginning to wonder when two hours had passed without the men returning.

Without warning, the door opened and Garrison walked in to stand, hands on hips and glared at the con man.

"Good evening, Warden," said Actor cordially.

"How did they get out of here?" asked the officer without any preliminary.

Actor shrugged. "I have no idea. I was asleep in my chair. When I awakened I was alone. I assumed they had gone downstairs."

The man's face was guileless and Garrison didn't believe him for a minute. "They got into a fight at the Doves and are in the stockade. They didn't just walk out of here."

Actor shrugged one shoulder and watched as Garrison moved from window to window. Finally he got to the one with the loosened bars. With one finger, he pushed the bars aside.

"Imagine that," said the confidence man."

Garrison turned a glare to him. "I take it this has been going on for awhile."

Knowing the game was indeed up, Actor laid his book on his lap. "Lieutenant, we need a chance to relax, have a couple drinks and play a few games of cards or darts, away from the confines of this beautiful prison. You have seen the fights between Casino and Chief have been escalating."

"Yes, I've seen that. What I see now is they have taken their fights to the Doves and now I have to pay for the damages."

"Perhaps if we were allowed a little freedom the tension would be less and the fights fewer."

Garrison shook his head. "So, after you four breaking the rules, I am supposed to award you with more freedom? Is that it?"

Actor smiled pleasantly. "I might not hurt and might actually help."

"Right," said Garrison.

The officer turned away and walked out the door. Actor looked around the room and smiled, sure that the Warden would not bail the men out until morning. Ahhh, lovely peace, quiet and privacy. He picked up his book and went back to reading.


End file.
